The title should leave you in no doubt what to expect: Murdered to Death is a parody of an Agatha Christie whodunnit. The Queen of Crime and Peter Gordon may produce in a similar fashion contrived scenes leading to a murder—but the comparison ends there.
Murdered to Death is the first of a trilogy featuring bumbling Inspector Pratt whose incompetence continually reaches unbelievable heights—or should that be depths? Since Gordon wrote the play in 1998, it has been performed more than 1,000 times by professional and amateur companies worldwide.
The play is periodically dusted off as part of the annual Classic Thriller Season at Nottingham’s Theatre Royal. I remember seeing it in 2010 when the late Colin McIntyre, the originator of the four-week-long season, directed it.
Five of the ten cast members of that production don their 1930s clothes again, with three of them reprising their roles.
Nicholas Briggs, a Doctor Who expert who has voiced several monsters including the Daleks for the television series, easily returns to the role of Pratt. In the 2010 production, I felt he didn’t bring out all the humour of the character. Now he gives a more rounded performance, luxuriating in the ridiculousness of Gordon’s script as well as the absurdity of Pratt’s blundering inefficiency.
Murdered to Death is set in a country house where Mildred is looking forward to having a house full of guests, just like in the old days. But six of the people in the lounge at Bagshot House have a strong reason for wanting her out of the way.
Susan Earnshaw, who again plays Mildred, is credible as a dignified widow who is ready to unleash the passion for one of the other characters she has had to keep hidden for many years.
When she suffers death by fatal murder, there is no shortage of suspects. In such a situation, the police look first at the victim’s closest relatives. Could the killer be Dorothy, Mildred’s plain niece—a solid performance by Juliet Strobel—who wanted to secure her inheritance?
Jeremy Lloyd Thomas is on fine form as blustering, forgetful Colonel Charles Craddock. Could he have done the deadly deed to stop his secret being revealed?
Or could his wife Margaret, who learns the truth about her husband’s past, be the perpetrator? Sarah Wynne Kordas makes the most of what is to some extent a subsidiary role.
What about the other two guests? Upper-class Elizabeth Hartley-Trumpington, an enjoyable debut by Thriller Season newcomer Hannah Blaikie, and French art dealer Pierre Marceau, an admirable performance by David Osmond, aren’t all they seem.
Or could the killer be Bunting the butler, expertly played by David Gilbrook, whose surreptitious supping of his employer’s sherry might have fired his quest for revenge for being treated so shabbily?
It’s left to amateur sleuth Joan Maple—Gordon even uses her name as a send-up—to try to unravel the mystery. Karen Henson, who played the role in 2010, is superb as the dotty old crimebuster who isn’t just an interfering busybody. Her comic timing is as usual impeccable.
Pavan Maru as Constable Thompkins is a suitable foil for Pratt, showing up the ineptitude of his supposedly superior officer and giving him hints on police procedure.
John Goodrum skilfully directs, putting his own stamp on the production which could never be described as hammy.
The humour in Murdered to Death may not be to everyone’s taste. Even so, anyone who goes to see the first offering in the 2024 Classic Thriller Season should find something to make them laugh. It’s a slick production, even though the cast, in repertory season fashion, had only a few days’ rehearsal.